Deplanetizer: Epilogue
by AimTrekRaider7
Summary: An epilogue to my previous story. Lawrence receives a message shortly after the Galactic Rangers destroy the Blargian space station known as the 'Deplanetizer'. Could be read separately, but I'd advise reading Aftermath first.


Author's Notes:  
-Alongside all the other things that were wrong with the film (and to a lesser extent, the game) the exclusion of Lawrence was just one more disappointment. There weren't many characters I'd call 'mature' even in the originals, but Lawrence's maturity was a nice counterbalance to Nefarious's childish behaviour. Luckily, Nefarious sort of held his own in the reboot. I could write an essay on this subject, and if someone really is that desperate to read my inane drivel, maybe I will.  
-Also, another theory/idea about how Lawrence ended up working for Nefarious, because there definitely aren't more than enough of these out there...  
-Either way, it's an epilogue.  
-There may be another story continuing after this one. I haven't written it yet, but I probably will soon.

'ACCEPTED'

This was accompanied by a string of co-ordinates. The origin and sender were unknown. Lawrence took another sip from his mug of silicon and spearmint infused oil, and gazed out over the construction site opposite the café where he liked to spend his Thursday afternoons. The starport was busy, for an out-of-the-way place in a less populated area of the Shadow Sector. Which starport wasn't, though? The construction of a new spacedock proved an increase in traffic, evidence of a large scale migration of more ne'er do wells from all across Solana. The efficiency of the Galactic Rangers had yet to be contested. He contemplated the message, and the accompanying co-ordinates. The easier of the two to place was the string of numbers and letters that made up a set of galactic co-ordinates. The location was specific, and led to an area on the northern hemisphere of Umbris that he was almost certain contained the wreckage of the infamous 'Deplanetizer'. Of all his contacts he could think of few, if any, who worked with the Blarg. His attention was drawn for a moment to the arrival of a shipment of some sort to the construction site. He watched with mild amusement as a short, spindly looking robot with a loosely attached right leg struggled to unload the heavy metal sheets brought in by the cargo shuttle. The rest of the team appeared to be absent, as this unsteady bot was alone in its endeavour. It made all of three paces from the shuttle before the right leg gave out entirely and the metal sheets were scattered across the scaffolding, some falling through gaps in the temporary panelling to be picked up by scavengers further out in space. He watched for a little while longer as the bot ran around, clearly in a panic, before it was vaporised by a bored looking foreman. The afternoon break was apparently over.

He continued to mull over the message, the single word sent from the crash site. Upon further thought, there was one person with whom he'd had little contact for a few years. Someone with whom prolonged contact was dangerous. And yet, Doctor Nefarious had consistently provided him with requests that challenged him and taxed his resources to their limits. His dangerous game of working both with and against the Rangers had fascinated Lawrence, and the complexity of each plan down to the smallest detail showed the hallmark of genius. Genius that was hampered by an erratic nature and a very short temper. With the right guidance he could challenge the Ranger authority that had begun to dominate Solana, which would take more time and subtlety than the mad scientist tended to invest in his schemes. Lawrence had offered his service once in the hope of bringing some order into Nefarious's chaotic lifestyle and until now he had received no response. At present, he lived in the security of relative anonymity, waiting tables and playing the odd late night gig. Housekeeping for the wealthy had always seemed too tame to hold his interest. Undoubtedly, a change in employment such as this would come with risks, but these would be well worth the change of scene. From what he knew of Nefarious his contract would likely be effective immediately, though it had yet to be drafted, and as he prided himself on his efficiency tardiness was not an option. He drained his mug and put the final pleasantries on his letter of resignation to his previous employer. Drink paid for and letter sent, he set off for his ship.

With the help of an illegally modified turbo booster he had the power of a warp drive at his command, which cut his journey to Umbris down to a little more than half an hour. Long range scans showed no sign of any other ships present. He moved his ship into orbit and directed another scan at the wreckage, searching for any organic life in and around the debris. The search returned nothing. No one at all either on or anywhere near the planet. There were a few power sources in the wasteland but these were weak and likely a remnant of the machines that had once powered the entire station. He entered the planet's atmosphere and drifted closer to the given co-ordinates. He appeared to be headed for a large, domed piece of outer shell and he wondered what would be waiting there for him. Only a short distance from the outer shell he stopped the ship, hesitant to land it. While he had no guarantee that the message came from Nefarious he knew of no one else who was in the habit of sending single word messages with such clearly implied orders. He located a relatively flat piece of land nearby and landed his ship. From this angle he could see part of an opening in the side of the shell. He eased the door to his ship open slowly, waiting for the ambush or the hidden superweapon to reveal itself. When no shots were fired and nothing moved more than a few broken cables twitching in the breeze, he opened the door fully. Stepping out cautiously, he began to pick a path through the rubble to the opening in the shell. As he got closer, he noticed the smell of blood seeping out into the open air. It was a strong, meaty smell. Nefarious was not the most discerning in how he spread his destruction and though it was unwise to rely on public speculation, he had heard some very unsavoury details about his employer's methods. If he had been sent to retrieve something it could take some time to find it amongst the viscera. The other possibility…

Reaching the opening, he peered in. His eyes cast a watery blue glow over the grim scene inside. Dark masses at the back looked ominously like flesh and bone. Discarded tools were stained a dark colour. In the centre of the makeshift room something large and metallic reflected his light back at him. He ducked inside and stopped himself suddenly, before he put his foot in a pool of congealing blood. He stepped over it, sighing in disgust, and moved further inside. The floor further in was littered in off-cuts, sharp edged pieces of metal and glass, and some pieces of bone. At this proximity he could recognise the general shape of the large metallic object. It sat at the edge of a larger pool of blood that had not yet begun to drain away, one foot beneath the surface and the knees hugged close to the chest. Nefarious was lifeless. Gently, Lawrence lifted him up and carried him out. Blood ran down the foot that had been submerged and dripped onto the ground. Now in daylight, Lawrence could see the extent of the transformation. It was impressive, in a way. The likeness had been captured perfectly, and the blues and greys of the new body complemented the acid green of the head well. Looking closer, one could see deep scratches in the metal that were common in scrap, and the blue rubber was faded and stained. The green dome was coated in a layer of dust. From his chest cavity Lawrence withdrew an industrial cleaning foam and a rag. He knew better than to attempt a full clean here, but he would prefer not to track blood into his ship. It came off easily enough with no complaint from Nefarious, so he moved him to the ship. As he settled into the pilot seat he realised that Nefarious was moving, running his hands over the walls and floor of the ship as though he were blind. More than blind, in fact, as he seemed not to notice what his hands touched. He could only wonder at how these changes had affected Nefarious's arguably unstable mind. The repair work would take some time to complete and some finesse to perform. He set a course for the Shadow sector, hoping that his volatile employer would remain calm for the duration of the journey.


End file.
